


Foam seething at the water's edge

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young prince does the opposite of “flourish” underneath his adoptive parents’ strict eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foam seething at the water's edge

**Author's Note:**

> A little warm-up story inspired by The Little Mermaid with the title coming from [here](http://www.endicott-studio.com/jMA03Summer/mermaid.html)

At the bottom of the ocean in the protected bubble around Poseidonis, life as the king’s adopted son is comfortable.   
  
Life is calm enough as it can be with various wars and envoys to and from the surface making their way between the realms. Life is… boring. Boring enough that the normally patient Kaldur starts to chafe against his father’s supervision.  
  
*  
  
“I am not letting you go to the surface, Kaldur’ahm,” King Orin says in a sharp tone as he watches his son tread water in front of him. “You and Arthur are my sons. What kind of king would I be if I let one of you swim up to the surface to be a pawn in the human’s agruments with me?” Orin reaches for his adopted son and squeezes his shoulders, thumbs sweeping over the thick black lines of swirling tattoo ink there. “I only want what’s best for you, Kaldur.”  
  
Kaldur bares his teeth in a frustrated grimace and then jerks away from his father’s grip so that he can swim away in a tight circle around the room.   
  
“I don’t understand how Garth can be your emissary, but I can’t even swim beyond the borders of our homelands,” Kaldur says, hissing a bit through his teeth as Orin gives him one of those thunderous looks that speaks to the lecture that Kaldur is about to receive. “We learned together. We grew together. Why can’t we go to the surface together now?”  
  
Orin’s teeth clench visibly and a muscle twitches near his mouth. “You’re my son, Kaldur. Not Garth,” he says with so much sharpness in his tone that Kaldur flinches backwards and drops a bit toward the shell covered floors of his father’s receiving rooms. “You wear my circlet around your head and—”  
  
Kaldur shakes his head. “Then I’ll take it off,” he barks, cutting Orin off as his anger and frustration get the best of him. “It’s not like I’m your real son anyway. It’s not like I’m the one in line for the throne. I’m not important.”  
  
“Don’t you ever say that again,” Orin says sharply, narrowing his eyes at Kaldur where his son swims in wide circles around the small room so that their eyes can’t meet. “You are important to me and if not for the way that the humans can’t be trusted to keep their bargains, I’d give you this freedom in a heartbeat.” He pushes himself up into the slow swirling currents of water in the room and aims to cut Kaldur off before he can get too close to the entrance of the room. “But I can’t do that. I can’t risk you being killed because of your connection to me.”  
  
Kaldur stops swimming. He scrubs the palm of one hand over his closely shorn scalp and narrows his soft gray eyes at Orin. “The humans don’t know who I am,” he says sharply, “They only know who Arthur is and I, my king, am not an infant to be kept at home while everyone else goes and puts themselves in danger for our kingdom.”   
  
Kaldur grits his teeth and then straightens his shoulders as he looks at his adoptive father. “You can’t keep me from leaving.”  
  
Orin shakes his head.   
  
“Of course I can,” he says in a growling tone reminiscent of a great beast. “You are my son and I am still king in this place. I forbid you to leave the palace!” The anger in his voice is a painful and almost physical thing and Kaldur presses his back against the nearest coral wall before recovering the rest of his anger.  
  
“I am not a child,” Kaldur says as he eyes his father warily, still swimming in place as he eyes the main exit. “If I’m really a prince, you can’t just lock me away. I have my skills and the magic I’ve learned from Lady Mera. You can’t—”  
  
The sharp slice of Orin’s large hand through the water makes Kaldur flinch backwards as air bubbles burst from his gills.  
  
“I can,” Orin says as he jolts forward and curls his fingers around Kaldur’s arm. “And I will. If you so much as stick a finger past the wards around the palace, I will have the guards confine you to your rooms until all this talk of foolishness has left your head.”  
  
Kaldur wants to snap at his father. He wants to bare his teeth and push off to swim and squeeze through the nearest window. But Kaldur is well beyond his childhood years and throwing a tantrum now with Orin’s fingers digging into the meat of his arms is nothing but a sign of immaturity.   
  
“I will speak to the queen about this,” Kaldur says, voice sharp and clipped as he narrows his eyes at his father. “She’ll understand what I’m trying to say.”  
  
Some of the hardness in Orin’s blue eyes fades and he squeezes Kaldur’s arm. “We only want what’s best for you, Kaldur.”  
  
“And what if what’s best for me is on the surface?”  
  
Orin frowns. “I can tell you now: it isn’t.”  
  
*  
  
Several days later, Kaldur steals onto a transport heading up to the surface and watches Poseidonis slowly shrink with the distance.


End file.
